


off the deep end

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cheating kink, Creampie, Cuckolding, F/M, Multi, Sub Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27149563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: steve knows you’re happily married to bucky, but that doesn’t mean he can’t think about having you all to himself every once and awhile.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	off the deep end

You and Bucky were building a house.

Rather, you and Bucky were _paying_ someone to build _you_ a house.

Bucky, now retired, and you, ready to settle down away from the annoyingly loud city, had agreed in moving upstate once the place Tony had helped design was finished. Steve had seen the blueprints several times, the large pieces of thick paper laid out on the kitchen table while you, your husband, and a few architects and an interior designer scratched notes onto those little pieces of brightly-colored sticky paper you seem to love so much. It had taken months before plans were finalized, another few weeks for you and Bucky to decide on furniture. The whole while, Steve witnessed from afar, sipping sweetened coffee and pretending to read books Sam recommended.

Oh, did Steve not mention?

While said house was being built, a mix up in Stark Tower renovations meant all your stuff had to be put into storage and you needed a temporary place to stay. Cue Steve, best friend and confidant, offering up his guest bedroom. It was only for a few weeks, given the state of the home, before you and Bucky could move in. It wouldn’t be long, and Bucky had given up much greater things for Steve, so the younger man easily obliged.

It was fine, Steve insisted, he liked you (but of course, who wouldn’t) and his Ma always taught him to help out his friends whenever he could. Within a few days, the three of you had fallen into a harmonious schedule, easily overlapping in the space Steve had gotten acquainted to being alone in.

That is, of course, until one night about a week in, when he had finished all of Black Mirror in one sitting and couldn’t close his eyes long enough to slip into unconsciousness.

“Babe,” he heard your sweet voice, albeit faint, through the walls. You and Bucky were a few rooms away, but the man had super hearing - and some dry wall wasn’t going to stop that. “What if he hears us?”

Steve felt bad about eavesdropping, but his interested was piqued and…well, he had no other excuse than that.

He heard Bucky scoff. “C’mon, what does it matter - he’s probably sleeping. Once he’s under, it’s like a boulder under a comforter.”

Oh…. _oh_ , Steve realizes.

A few moments pass before you speak again, voice firm. “I’m not sleeping with you while he can hear us. I refuse.”

Bucky just lets out a small laugh, obviously not seeing the situation as you do. Steve can imagine the two of you now, Bucky behind you with his hands roaming your body while he left wet kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. Your arms crossed and left eyebrow raised and jaw set, refusing to give into the man’s charms.

He’s seen this dance before, though not in the same context. When you wanted a greenhouse and Bucky wanted a pool, and the plot of land you’d purchased upstate only had space for one – Bucky spent the entire two hour meeting with the head contractor groping your ass when the man turned around and kissing at the skin your very cute, very well-cut, very professional beige tank top left exposed on your neck, shoulders, back. You spent the entire appointment with the same stoic look, asking the contractor genuine, well-research questions while Bucky pulled every trick he knew to get you to crack.

And, given by the state of the blueprints Steve saw last night, Bucky’s tactics work _every_ time.

The whiny voice of his best friend interrupts his thoughts. “Babe, it’s been _so long_ -“

You scoff. “God, you’re such a horndog. It’s been less than a week, Buck.”

“So long!” his whines get even higher pitched as he continues. “Before I was buried inside of you two, three times a day and all that stopped when we started staying here!” He groans. Steve can hear him kissing at your skin once more, can hear the zipper of your high-waisted denim shorts – _the tight ones that make your ass look good enough to eat -_ being undone and them hitting the ground. “It’s okay,” Bucky’s voice is lower now, passive and harder to resist. “It’s okay, love, don’t worry about poor old Steve…”

The man in question isn’t exactly sure when you give in, but somewhere between Steve pulling his sweatpants down and Bucky praising your “sweet, sweet cunt” you had given up protecting your dignity – favoring the feeling of Bucky inside of you more than the struggle of keeping him at arm’s length.

(Though, you do enjoy hearing him beg, but that’s something to explore at a different time.)

Steve can hear the headboard hitting the wall as Bucky fucks into you at a pace the man is sure will leave bruises on your inner thighs – the thuds a nice baseline to your melodic, obscene moans and Bucky’s lyrical words.

“F-fuck you gonna come around my cock, baby girl?” the man purrs. Steve can tell you’re on your back by the specific moans Bucky unleashes each time you pull at his hair or scratch his back. His penchant for _just enough_ pain sends another wave of heat through Steve’s body, makes him wonder if Bucky likes it when he gets banged up on missions, or if the visible bruises that sometimes appear on Bucky’s skin but no one has the gal to comment on are from something other than the intense sparring sessions he has with the rest of the Avengers. “You gonna milk my cock?”

Steve can hear your whimpers of affirmation, can picture your slack jaw and eyes rolled to the back of your head as sweat pools on your brow. He can see your breasts bouncing with each thrust, see your legs pushed up to your chest and your hands grabbing at Bucky to make him go _faster faster Please Bucky oh my God please go faster-_

He comes into his hand just as Bucky comes inside of you, both men moaning deeply while you pant.

Steve falls asleep awash in shame – unconsciousness claiming him before he can hear the rest of your and Bucky’s conversation as he wraps his arms around you.

“Do you think he heard?” you whisper, peppering small kisses where he forearms cross over your chest.

Bucky smiles against your sweaty temple, teeth grazing the heated skin there. “Judging by how hard he moaned when he came, yeah, I think it worked.”

And with that, you both fall asleep, content in your mischievousness.

Steve averts your gaze for the next few days – his eyes always darting away with his entire being acting as if you and him were repelling magnets. His blue eyes would never admit you so much existed, let alone that you had some physical form. It’s almost comical, how much he does to avoid speaking to you despite living in such close quarters. Still, like most things, it gets old fast – the talking only to Bucky, the ducking away from you.

So Bucky agrees to help you devise a plan, one that requires you to wait until temperature between the three of you had reached its boiling point.

Luckily, that doesn’t take long.

The summer heat in New York is brutal, even with the air conditioner Tony had personally overseen the installment of. It makes Steve want to skin himself and take an ice bath, or sleep until the next ice age. He wonders if being frozen again is an option, if he can just be left out to defrost on the New York City sidewalk as tourists take selfies with his unconscious body and New Yorkers roll their eyes while mumbling about missing the train once more.

Instead, though, he chose to indulge in the large, ice-cold pool that he rarely uses for anything but occasionally swimming laps (he had rarely swum back in His Day – and even now he still refers running or anything else on land. Still, the call to the water is not one to be ignored, especially when that water is kept at a solid sixty degrees Fahrenheit). The problem with this plan is that Tony – the man supposed to be in charge of either upkeep of the pool himself or making sure someone did it so he could claim credit – is very bad at things that require him to set aside the work in his lab. This meant that despite the blistering heat, and Steve’s want – no, _need_ – to use the pool, it was unfit for use.

He texts Bucky, wondering if he would enjoy some reprieve from the heat (and if he wants to help Steve set up the pool, but the other man doesn’t need to know he’s being baited into helping him). Almost too quickly he gets a response, one written in Bucky’s usual minimalist fashion.

_Sure. Meet me at the pool in 10._

And with that, Steve changes into his swim shorts, grabs his sandals and a towels, and heads to the other side of the tower where the pool is located.

As he enters the athletic area, ignoring the stares from the sports medicine interns that Sam flirts with, his phone beeps with a text from Tony telling him where the necessary chemicals were. He can see Bucky on one of the lounge chairs even though the glass of the door is purposefully clouded to protect the privacy of pool goers, and begins to read the message aloud as he opens it. “Hey, have you seen the chlorine ga- _ah! Oh my God I’m so sorry holy shit!”_

He attempts to shield his eyes while you remain cool as a cucumber, topless while you’re splayed across a pool floaty shaped like a slice of watermelon. One leg is thrown over the side, foot firmly in the chilled water with the rest of your limbs out like a starfish. Opaque, pink-lined heart-shaped sunglasses fail to hide your lack of reaction, high-waisted bikini bottoms covering about the same.

“Don’t worry about it, Stevie, we already fixed it a while ago,” a voice much too low to be yours says from the other end of the pool. Steve recognizes the voice immediately, and it makes his heart drop into his ass. _Fuck, he’s in so much trouble._ “Can’t help but stare, huh Stevie? She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Aw, Buck,” you give a lighthearted scoff and giggle, a sound that makes Steve’s ribs feel tighter. “You’re so sweet.”

It takes a long while for Steve to remove the hand from over his eyes, to finally see the both of you looking at him. He expects to see you infuriated, Bucky even more so. What he _doesn’t_ expect is to see you still laid against the high-quality plastic with your man…smirking.

“C’mon Steve,” the man in question’s childhood best friend says with a playful ton that makes Steve’s heart jump in his chest. “Doesn’t my girl look good today?”

Steve just gulps, taking the image of you in. You’re…perfect. To say the least. Steve had buried his feelings for you ever since he met you – Bucky bringing you as his plus one to some holiday party Natasha was hosting in her upstate cabin.

(Well, “cabin” is an understatement, considering it’s a ten-bedroom mansion made to look rustic with its outfitting and interior design, including numerous busts of animals that Natasha had shot in various barren wildernesses throughout the globe.)

You were wearing some burnt orange sweater that looked soft as fuck, with these black skinny jeans that framed your ass like a Monet painting. At one point you and Bucky were cuddled up on the couch and your body twisted enough that a sliver of your stomach was exposed. It was only for a second before Bucky readjusted the blanket that he had unconsciously hogged, but _fuck_ – Steve thought of kissing that skin with one of his hands wrapped around his cock for months.

Now he wonders if he’ll survive as he’s able to look at _so much more_ you – your pert nipples, the skin on your collarbones riddled with bruises he has to squint to see. He wonders if his best friend put them there with his teeth or his hands, if he was kissing his way down to your sweet pussy or fucking you from behind, gripping at your shoulders and hair and _neck_ as his thick cock pounded into you.

It’s enough to make his sweatpants tighter – and for you to notice it.

“Aw,” you coo, sitting up on the floatie and leaning back on your elbows. Your feet splash in the water, bathing you another cloak of innocence. “Does my hair look that bad?”

Steve gulps, heart ramming in his chest. “N-no you look, uh-“

He’s interrupted by you jumping off the floatie, gracefully swimming towards the side of the pool where Bucky remains, emerging from the water like some siren materializing from the depths of the ocean while Steve surveils you from the helm of his expansive ship. He feels just as exposed as those ancient men must’ve felt as Bucky’s flesh hand grazes the hem of your bikini bottoms as you pass the man – your eyes locked with Steve’s while Bucky, cool and collected and calculating Bucky, watches from his spot on the sidelines.

“C’mon Steve,” you whisper into his heated skin. Goosebumps shoot down the man’s spine – a shiver he fails to hide following just behind them. “I know you want me…”

And, somehow, that’s really all it takes for him to break.

He grabs you close before crashing his lips into yours – hands roaming your body as his tongue picks up on the distinct taste of chlorine that coats your skin. Neither of you can see it, but Bucky smiles as he watches you two kiss. _Steve was always the weak one…_

It doesn’t take long for it to deepen, Steve’s hands finding your ass while your own hands scratch down his chest. Soon after that you find yourself jumping into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he walks you to you and Bucky’s shared spare room.

Your husband holds each door you three come across open, the two of you passing under his metal arm as you tangle your fingers in his dirty blonde hair. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is – watching his girl kiss his best friend with such passion while his large hands grab at her ass – but _fuck_ , if it doesn’t make him hard in his shorts, especially as your moans catch in your throat and go right to Bucky’s cock.

When you arrive to the bedroom you’re dropped on the bed unceremoniously, Steve climbing on top of you as soon as your back hits the mused sheets. For a minute you forget your husband is even there, until his husky voice cuts through the breathy moans and small gasps as Steve runs his hands up and down your body.

“You wanna fuck my girl, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs. He’s palming his cock as he sits next to Steve, who remains near-speechless.

“I-“ is all he can get out, mouth dry. “I, uh…”

“Aw, c’mon,” Bucky and you laugh as he speaks. “I’ve seen the way you look at her whenever you’d visit us, how you’ve looked at her since the day I introduced her to the team. You were the best man at our wedding, and all the pictures that expensive ass photographer took make it look like you want to eat her.”

Steve blushes even redder, focusing on the feeling of the soft sheets in his hands. _You’ve always been one for the nice things in life_.

You sigh, grabbing one hand in each of yours and placing them on your hips. It shocks his concentration, makes him face that your bare tits are right in front of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, smiling as his hands start to roam up and down your back. “You can touch me.”

That spurs Steve into action, one hand moving to grab at your hair so he can drag you into another deep kiss. The ties on the bikini bottoms are easily undone, the flimsy piece of damp fabric tossed aside so his fingers can drag over your dripping core. The mere _sight_ of your glistening pussy enough to make Steve moan, make him screw his eyes shut as he bottoms out.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Bucky murmurs, removing your bathing suit so he can properly stroke himself.

Steve nods, mouth nearly dry as he pushes two fingers inside of you. He nearly comes in his shorts when he feels you tighten around him, his brain only able to think about what you would feel like around his aching cock.

“Stevie,” you whisper. It’s that nickname – that _stupid_ nickname that Bucky’s called him since they were children. The man’s heard it a million and one times, but for some reason hearing it fall from your lips makes his knees weak. “Show me what you thought about last night…what you wanted to do to me while Bucky was fucking me…”

Somewhere between the end of your last words and the next time you blink, the man on top of you is naked, fitting himself between your legs. None of the three of you utter a word as he pushes your legs up to your chest – not a single thing said as Steve’s thick cock enters you as easily as his fingers did, his moans and yours mixing in the air like a perfectly made cocktail.

“ _God_ you’re tight,” Steve moans. His words are strained, as if it takes all his might to force them from his throat.

Bucky _hmms_ in agreement, pride and lust swelling in his chest and cock. He feels like he’s showing off his prized pet, his ribbon winner – and watching Steve’s mind short circuit just as his does when he fucks you makes him more turned on than Bucky’s ever been in this long, long life of hos.

And then there’s _you_ – the woman he first saw during that conference on the psychology of time travel Tony made him go to all those years ago and has been heads over heels in love with since.

“How you doing there, angel?” Bucky whispers, voice barely audible over the skin slapping skin and wet kisses you and Steve are sharing. “My best friend fuckin’ you good?”

You can barely nod in response, a sign Bucky _knows_ what Steve’s giving you is good.

Actually, it’s fucking _fantastic_ – that’s the first thing you noticed. You’ve spent the last few years only having sex with Bucky; long enough you’d nearly forgotten the feeling of someone else’s skin under your fingertips, someone else’s hips meeting yours as they bottom out with each thrust.

It's just good – it’s so _good –_ the both of you are already desperate as you and Steve remain speechless with your jaws slack as pleasure warms where your body and skin continually become one.

“F _-fuck,_ ” Steve finally moans, breath knocked from his lungs and each of his muscles taunt as he nears his peak, your own not too far behind him.

“You gonna come inside my wife, Steve?” Bucky grunts, mind torn between staving off his orgasm so he can unload inside of you and coming right then and there. “You want to eat your come out of the woman who wears my ring on her finger?”

“F- _fuck_!” Steve screams, whole body tensing as he nears his peak – not knowing what would happen if he accidentally came in you. “Fuck, Bucky, I-“

“C’mon,” you tell him, reaching up to bring his face close to yours as you buck you own hips up to meet his thrusts. “C’mon, Stevie, you can do it-“

Steve looks confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing as his thrusts slow momentarily – barely able to ignore you whining because of his stalled movements. “A-are you sure?”

Bucky rolls his eyes as his hand slows. “Don’t get all emotional with me while you’re fucking my wife, Steve. Just fuckin’ come in her already.”

And that he does – thrusts picking back up as your hands dig into the warmed sheets.

It doesn’t take long at all with all the sexual tensions bursting; Bucky comes just as Steve gushes inside of you – spilling into his own hand as his best friend coats your walls with the same white substance that sticks to his palm. You’re fucked out, incomprehensible as Steve pants into your neck.

Bucky, though, just grins as his clean hand – the cool, metal one – moves to cup your face. “So, pretty girl, you want to go again, this time with the man you agreed to marry?”


End file.
